


Charity Season

by xJane



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Christmas, Enemies to Lovers, Happy Ending, M/M, OOC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:15:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27944411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xJane/pseuds/xJane
Summary: Across the room, his eyes linger for a moment on the boy. Eliott has no clue who the boy is, but he noticed him coming in earlier, his cheeks rosy from the cold, his hair messed up from the wind. He was handsome, Eliott objectively noted, and when he found his friends and laughed about something the curly-haired boy had said, he felt a pang of attraction slice through him. He quenched it as soon as it arrived. He has no business being attracted to people. He is not made for relationships. He tries to tell himself he doesn’t miss it either. Alone is what he does best.***Eliott has become bitter over the years, fighting against his own brain without a support system.Christmas might just be the right season to change things for the better...
Relationships: Eliott Demaury/Lucas Lallemant
Comments: 85
Kudos: 165





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starry_starry_dreamer_89](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starry_starry_dreamer_89/gifts).



> It is almost Miss [starry_starry_dreamer_89](https://https://archiveofourown.org/users/starry_starry_dreamer_89/pseuds/starry_starry_dreamer_89)'s birthday!
> 
> So, I wrote all of this, and I started worrying. It's vaguely Christmassy alright, but it's not very Enemies-to-lovers at all. I hope you still like it Miss!
> 
> Also, I was told that the sneak preview of this I posted was "cringe". Read at your own peril, I'd say.
> 
> And thirdly, I doubt universities in Paris have a defined campus. I also doubt students would live "on campus", and I doubt even more that the grew would do so considering they are all already living in Paris. But I decided not to give a crap. Maybe they just all went to university somewhere else? Maybe in this world university campuses are a thing in Paris? It could be. Sloppy writing? Probably. But it's just a short bit of holiday fluff so you know, suspend your disbelief and all will be fine in the end.
> 
> <3
> 
> PS I am still editing the rest but I'll post them soon!

Eliott does not want to be here.

The blonde in front of the room is way too peppy, and her smiles and buoyancy grate his nerves. She’s got a clipboard in her left hand, and keeps checking off items on a list that seems endless. His mind is elsewhere, and he tries to sink back into his shadowed corner even more.

He knows, rationally, that he should be glad he even gets to be here. The dean could easily have expelled him, sent him home with his tail between his legs and his head hung low in shame, like he has done so often before. And it had been a close call, Eliott knows as much. He had to beg and plead for another chance. Finally, the stern woman had pinched the bridge of her long nose, and had sighed. _I assume it is the season for charity, Mr. Demaury. I will extend some of it to you._ She’d laid out the lines clearly. _You will volunteer your time to Miss Lecomte’s Christmas fundraising drive. Four weeks. You will do as she tells you. She will report back to me on the last day before Christmas break, and if I am not satisfied, you will not be allowed to return for the spring semester. I hope I have made myself understood._

Eliott understands all too well. He is being punished, again, for something he cannot be held responsible for. He has to understand, but nobody understands how it is for him. Now he has to be here and pretend to be enthusiastic about the Christmas market this committee will set up towards the end of term, if he gets the gist of what the girl is laying out for the group of volunteers. His attention drifts off. He doesn’t want to be here, wants to sulk in his room, alone as he always is, as he has been for years now. As he likes it.

Suddenly, the room becomes livelier and noisier, and everybody seems to crowd near a pretty girl with red lipstick, who holds a few cookie tins. She’s laughing as she opens them up, and grabby hands disappear inside them to emerge with gingerbread men. Eliott scoffs. It’s not even December yet, and these people are being as cliché as it gets. He stays where he is, his back against the wall, a scowl on his face, and lets his eyes wander around.

Across the room, they linger for a moment on the boy. Eliott has no clue who the boy is, but he noticed him coming in earlier, his cheeks rosy from the cold, his hair messed up from the wind. He was handsome, Eliott objectively noted, and when he found his friends and laughed about something the curly-haired boy had said, he felt a pang of attraction slice through him. He quenched it as soon as it arrived. He has no business being attracted to people. He is not made for relationships. He tries to tell himself he doesn’t miss it either. Alone is what he does best.

Pretty boy is standing by himself now, fiddling on his phone. Again, Eliott cannot help but notice the symmetry of his features, the strong jaw, the way his eyebrows knit together slightly as he reads something. Eliott wouldn’t mind drawing him. He stares a bit longer, thinking about how he would choose a half-profile, to get the most interesting angles, the shadows of his hair on his cheek –

Another guy walks up to pretty boy, and he seems to say something, and before Eliott realizes what is happening, pretty boy has swung a fist at the other boy. In a flash, pretty boy’s friends are with him, and they make a big fuss over him, tutting and holding him and checking his bust knuckles. The other guy is clutching his jaw, and blood appears on his split lip. Some more people mingle into the fray. A girl with a flowered hijab hugs pretty boy tightly. Two guys turn towards Split Lip, and their faces look like thunder. Eliott is too far away to hear what is being said, but Split Lip seems to be getting quite the calling out. Within minutes, the Lecomte girl – Danielle? Delphine? No, wait, Daphné, that was it – has made her way over. She talks for a few seconds to pretty boy, who shrugs. He seems to want to swing at Split Lip again, but is held back by one of his friends, the dark-skinned one. Daphné seems furious. Eliott would not like to be in pretty boy’s shoes right now. The blonde doesn’t look like she will tolerate any untoward behaviour in her little charity club. But then she turns on her heels, and starts laying into Split Lip. The guy slumps when faced with this, as well as the others, all staring at him as if he was the lowest of scum. Eliott almost leaves his corner, to defend the guy – it was pretty boy who decked him one, without any reason whatsoever – but decides it’s not worth it. The Lecomte girl might sell him out to the dean, and he really doesn’t want to be kicked out of yet another school. Split Lip leaves, and then everybody turns towards pretty boy. Somebody gets him some tea, Red Lipstick girl leaves her spot near the tables to bring him a cookie, a guy in glasses puts a bandage on his hand.

Eliott is pissed. Pretty boy was clearly in the wrong there, and yet the others are all fawning over him as if he was an innocent lamb. Eliott has known his share of handsome people, who knew all they had to do was bat their eyelashes and smile to get whatever the fuck they wanted – and he cannot stand them. Eliott has never had that courtesy shown to him, always had to fight for everything, and plead for mercy whenever he inevitably messed up again. Okay, yeah, he did some bad things. But it wasn’t his fault his brain didn’t work properly. If he, Eliott, even during an episode, just hit somebody like that, he’d be called out, reported to the dean, his shrink would be informed, and somebody more likely than not would count his pills, to check whether he has been taken them as a proper little boy with bipolar disorder should.

Envy and hatred burn through Eliott’s veins at the sight of pretty boy. He has made up his mind about the other. Thinks he can get away with everything. Smug, arrogant, no consideration for anybody. Cute smile used to manipulate people and get out of everything, never faced the consequences of his actions in his entire life. He sighs as Daphné takes her spot near the stage again and calls for attention, as she dives back into her lists and summarizes tasks and deadlines. Eliott’s eyes dart back to the far side, where pretty boy sits, like a prince surrounded by his court. He nearly snarls at the sight. Four weeks to avoid the prick with a passion.

***

The first weeks of volunteering have been fine. Daphné has given him all sorts of tasks he could easily do by himself, like handing out flyers or sort out decorations or give some of the more worn out looking stalls they would be using for the Christmas market a new coat of paint. He has managed to do what she asked and steer mostly clear of the crowd hanging out with pretty boy.

He can’t deny the jealousy he feels whenever he sees the big group interact, though. They seem to gravitate towards each other, and Eliott has been observing them more than he wants to admit, even to himself. There is of course pretty boy and Curly Hair and Glasses and Tall Dark Handsome. Daphné is dating Curly Hair and Glasses is dating the brunette with the lovely smile. There’s Flowered Hijab and her boyfriend, and Tall Dark Handsome Two. Red Lipstick and pretty boy are close, and Eliott vehemently ignores that he hates watching her kissing pretty boy on his cheek, or him pulling her in for a hug.

He hates them, all of them. He has started counting down the days until he is free of his punishment.

He cannot wait not to have to see pretty boy anymore.

He should have known things wouldn’t remain as easy.

When he sees Flowery Hijab – Imane, he thinks – walk up to him, he wants to run away, hide, feign illness. Now that the term is slowly winding down, it is time to actually get the market going. Imane informs him that he is on the roster to man one of the booths. Eliott wants to protest, but the image of the dean in her grey woollen cardigan, glaring at him over her mother-of-pearl rimmed glasses, stops him, and Imane nods knowingly. This means, obviously, that most of his free time during the last days of term will be taken up by trying to sell whatever the fuck the committee had managed to get their hands on to cash-strapped students. Not how he wants to spend them, exactly, especially not when he also still has to finish a lot of work for his classes. His episode had set him back considerably, and with being forced to volunteer for this fundraiser, he hasn’t quite managed to catch up yet. He needs to pass his classes, otherwise, this whole thing would be a waste of time anyway. No point in getting to stay if he fails all his courses.

Eliott checks the schedule Imane has given him. He has been marked down for a lot of evening slots, manning what appears to be a stall selling hot chocolate, non-alcoholic eggnog and punch. Could be worse. It doesn’t look like the shifts overlap with any of his classes, which is good. His attendance is low enough as it is, and he doesn’t want to ask Daphné to do him the favour of switching up the schedule. It just is a lot of hours. He will have to pull a couple of all-nighters to get his portfolios ready.

Belatedly, he checks the roster again to see who he is partnered with. Lucas. The name doesn’t ring a bell. Then again, his solitary tasks have meant he hasn’t really met a lot of people working on this thing. At least it’s not Daphné or Imane. He wouldn’t survive Daphné’s chattering or the formidable looks Imane gives when she isn’t too pleased. Besides, they both hang out with pretty boy, and that alone is a black mark against them in Eliott’s book.

He makes it to the main square, where the stalls are set up, a few minutes before his shift starts. It is quiet, and he offers to take over for the two girls who have manned the booth up until now and who are visibly shivering. Maybe they shouldn’t have agreed to sit in an unheated market stall for a few hours in the dead of winter wearing skirts and low-cut sweaters, Eliott thinks, but either way, they are glad to be off. One of them rambles a few things Eliott barely pays attention to – how the register works, who to call for more supplies, and how to keep the punch simmering on the portable gas pit. He doesn’t really care. Hopefully, Lucas will have received some instructions.

If the guy shows up, that is. Their shift started ten minutes ago and nobody is in sight yet. Then, suddenly, the door opens and somebody almost tumbles in, covered in a coat and a beanie and a few scarves.

“I’m sorry!”, a muffled voice sounds from behind all the fabric. “My professor kept us a bit longer, talking about our end of term paper, I just couldn’t leave like that.”

Hands are slowly unwrapping strips of fabric, and Eliott smiles despite himself.

“I swear I’ll make it up to you,” the boy continues, back turned to Eliott to hang up his coat. “I’ll buy you a hot chocolate. Won’t even have to make you wait while I go get it.” He giggles, and Eliott likes the sound. Lucas is going to be fun to work with over the next week.

Then, the scarves piled up high on the floor, Lucas turns around. He has a huge smile on his face.

“So? Hot chocolate? Extra whipped cream? Marshmallows?”

And just like that, Eliott’s heart sinks and his stomach curls unpleasantly.

Pretty boy is even prettier from up close. In the close proximity of the tiny market stall, Eliott sees the velvety lips, the light freckles on the pale skin, the long eyelashes. And then – Eliott has to look away. He didn’t know pretty boy’s eyes were this big, and this… azure. Cerulean. Sapphire. The colour of the sky at dusk, of the ocean on a clear winter day.

Fuck.

For half a second, Eliott allows himself to forget he hates Lucas, and imagines drowning in those seas of blue.

Then he scoffs.

“I don’t fucking want your hot chocolate. What I want is for you to be on time and not shove off your duties on me.”

The smile on Lucas’ face vanishes in a heartbeat.

“Yeah, I know, but my professor –”

“I don’t care. I don’t know how you manage to wrap everybody else around your little finger, but I’ve met your type before. You’re just being an arrogant ass and I am not gonna stand for you slacking off. I have classes too, and I was here on time.”

Eliott knows he is being rude, and vaguely thinks it might be better to shut up, before Lucas decides to rat him out to Daphné. But Lucas’ pretty cheeks flush pink at his words, and Eliott almost forgets what they are talking about.

Lucas looks like he wants to retort, but for some reason, he takes a deep breath and waits a few deliberate seconds before speaking.

“Okay,” he says, and it sounds calm, polite, but the storm in his eyes tells a different story. “I’m sorry. I’ll be on time in the future.”

Another half-second of unease, of Eliott regretting the change in Lucas, the disappearance of the bright smile on that pretty face – but then he resolves to ignore it all. Lucas is a pretentious, conceited ass, who thinks he can get out of trouble with a flirty smile. It may work on Daphné and Imane and all the other people cooing over him, but it will not work on Eliott. He scoffs again, and turns away, stirs the hot chocolate so he doesn’t have to look at Lucas.

They work in silence. Lucas tries, a few times, to ask a question, apologize again, offer Eliott some of the snacks he brought, but Eliott doesn’t answer, hardly even looks at Lucas, and the other boy gives up. The remainder of their three-hour shift passes in silence.

At one point, Daphné comes by. She looks suspiciously between the two of them, and asks Lucas in a low voice if everything is okay. Lucas’ eyes dart to Eliott, who catches it out of the corner of his own eyes as he pretends to be busy stirring the chocolate. He sees Lucas biting his lip for a fraction of a second, and then he resolutely nods, telling Daphné in a chipper voice they’re doing great. Daphné doesn’t look convinced, but Lucas quickly starts talking about something else, and Daphné relaxes, and they laugh together at some inside joke before Daphné leaves, waving cheerily at Lucas.

Eliott wonders briefly if he should thank Lucas. Then he decides he doesn’t owe Lucas anything. He was probably not even thinking about Eliott, just trying to cover up for being late himself. Eliott scoffs audibly. Pretty prick getting away with everything. This is going to be a long week.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW - Mentions of homophobic slurs, slurs against mentally ill people.
> 
> <3

It is torture, in a way. Evening after evening Lucas and he spend hours in the cold, serving hot drinks to students who are getting more and more in the holiday spirits as the days pass by, with exams over and the break creeping closer. They don’t talk. Lucas is on time every day. The second day, he greeted Eliott politely, although his smile was a bit strained, and when Eliott ignored him completely, he’d dropped it and hadn’t tried to talk to Eliott again, except for some highly necessary things like asking for help with the register or something. Even that is done with the least words possible. They have a system going – Eliott takes care of the chocolate and the eggnog, Lucas the punch and the money. Now that they are getting busier, closer to the end of the term, it works well for them. The rows in front of their stalls move quickly, and Daphné is happy when she comes to do her daily check-ups, although she seems to be worrying about Lucas, which he shrugs off without answering.

Lucas’ friends stop by sometimes, and Lucas brightens. His smile lights up the whole square, and Eliott cannot help but watch, drawn like a moth to the flame, even though he knows the fire is dangerous. Red Lipstick comes by a few times, bringing food, and the sweetness of it tears through Eliott. It reminds him of when things were still easy between him and his girlfriend, and they’d do little things for each other, too. But then he scoffs, thinking Lucas should bring his own food, instead of relying on his girlfriend. Pretty boys getting everything delivered to them. Hah. Eliott sees right through it.

One day, Tall Dark Handsome asks Lucas to take a break, come out with him to explore the market, and Lucas starts to agree enthusiastically, turning to grab his myriad of scarves, but then he reconsiders. Eliott listens as he mumbles something about how he can’t leave Eliott to deal with everything on its own. And Eliott remembers, of course, how he told Lucas he wouldn’t stand for him slacking off, but he is tired and angry and he chooses to take everything in the worst possible way, so he bites at Lucas that he is not a complete imbecile and he can man their stall on his own for twenty minutes, and practically shoves Lucas out of the door. He makes another deliberate choice when he pretends that he doesn’t see the hurt on Lucas’ face as he looks back over his shoulder at Eliott, walking away. At least he holds himself back from flipping Lucas off. When Lucas comes back, only twelve minutes later, neither of them acknowledges the other.

In all honesty, Eliott finds holding on to his hatred is tougher every day. Lucas charms their customers, works hard, accommodates Eliott as much as possible, still mumbles some sort of greeting when they start their shift and when they leave for the night, and tells Daphné without fail that everything is going fine.

And he is still so goddamn pretty.

Eliott has dreamt of him, his big eyes focused on Eliott, his lips trembling with Eliott’s name. He woke up sweaty and disoriented, and he needed a cold shower to clear his head of the images of a blissed-out Lucas.

The result of this whole mess is that Eliott is exhausted to the bone.

He’s here after class every day, trying to sort out how he feels about Lucas, and he’s been attempting to finish his portfolio at night, but it’s going badly. He doesn’t feel inspired, nothing works, every line he puts on paper sucks, and the deadlines are looming big. They have two more days of selling after today, and then Daphné will want his help disassembling the stalls and putting everything up and more tedious chores. At least he won’t have to breathe the same air as Lucas anymore. Things can only go up.

He stifles a yawn.

He notices Lucas is getting ready to call it a night, washing up in the tiny sink, and collecting the money from the register. Eliott waits until Lucas is done doing his dishes, and then he takes the chocolate off the burner to rinse it out. But his tiredness catches up with him, and the handle slips, and the boiling hot liquid that’s still in the pan spills. Most of it lands on the floor, but a good part flows over Lucas’ hand. Eliott stares in horror at Lucas, who yelps in pain.

“Auch! Fuck! Watch out!”

Eliott knows he is to blame here. He should apologize, offer to find the first aid kit, run Lucas’ hand under cold water, anything.

Instead, he snarls.

“What? Afraid you’ll get a scar, pretty boy?”

Lucas freezes. His mouth falls open, and Eliott feels remorse creeping up. He tries to think of something to say, to take back his rude words, but before he can do so, Lucas turns around and leaves. He doesn’t take his coat or his many layers of winter gear, just steps out and walks off.

Fuck.

Eliott doesn’t know what to do now. Lucas will definitely complain to Daphné, and Eliott will be expelled. It’s not like he wouldn’t deserve it, after this. Well, at least he doesn’t have to worry about his assignments anymore then. But now he worries about Lucas. Has he gone to find the nurse? It must hurt like hell. Will he come back for his stuff? Is Daphné going to show up as an avenging angel or something, sending Eliott straight to the dean?

He morosely cleans up the mess he made, and sits down, waiting for Lucas. He waits and waits, until it is nearly midnight, and it is pretty clear nobody is going to show up tonight.

He doesn’t know what to do. Hesitating, he grabs Lucas’ stuff, and goes home. A sleepless night, a few unproductive classes and two professors nagging him about his portfolios later, he drags himself to the market stall. He fully expects to see Daphné standing there, ready to tell him his help is no longer wanted, but instead, Lucas is there, preparing the eggnog. He barely looks up when Eliott comes in. He doesn’t greet Eliott. His left hand is bandaged heavily, and Eliott feels guilty.

“Hi,” he says, awkwardly.

Lucas ignores him completely.

“I, uh, I brought your stuff. You left it yesterday.”

No reaction. It makes him feel small and humiliated. Is this how Lucas felt when Eliott ignored him all those times? It makes Eliott’s stomach churn uneasily.

“Uh, how is your hand?”

Lucas keeps stoically turned away from Eliott, not even acknowledging him. And the guilt and remorse and the long-time hatred all come to a boil, and it erupts, and it is ugly.

“You know what? Forget I ever asked. I’m not sorry at all. You deserved it, and more too. You’re an arrogant asshole and if I never have to see your smug face ever again it’ll be too soon!”

And that gets Lucas’ attention, finally.

“Oh yeah? What have I ever done to you, huh? I was ten minutes late, once, and you decided that I was a worthless prick. What does that make you, then, you judgmental dickhead?”

“Oh, you think being late is your worst sin? What about hitting people out of the blue? You think because you are good-looking you can get away with everything, and I despise people like you!”

“What? What the fuck are you talking about? Who did I hit?”

He looks genuinely confused, but Eliott knows it is a ploy. Another attempt to look innocently with those oceans of his. Maybe Lucas hits so many people he can’t even keep track. He really thinks he’ll get out of this, but Eliott is done with Lucas.

“On the first meeting for this whole fucking thing, you hit that blonde guy for no fucking reason, and instead of you being kicked out, all your fucking friends treated you like some sort of abused hero or something. He didn’t do anything! You just planted your fist in your face, as if it was nothing!”

Lucas’ eyebrows knit together in confusion, and then his features tighten.

“I see,” he says in a low voice, hard and cold as steel. “You’re a friend of Nicholas. A fucking homophobe. Just my luck.”

“The fuck? Why are you calling me homophobic? I’m fucking queer, you dick,” Eliott hisses, feeling that bandaged hands or not, this is sliding in the direction of throwing fists _fast_.

“What?” Lucas frowns deeper, but his voice doesn’t cut glass anymore.

“I am pan, not that it’s any of your business.”

“But then why were you mocking me for being gay?”

“What? When? I never – what do you mean, you’re gay? You have a girlfriend!”

This conversation is really not making any sense, Eliott thinks. If this is Lucas just trying to get out of hitting people, Eliott swears to God –

“A girlfriend?” Lucas laughs low. “What the fuck?”

“The pretty girl who brings you dinner all the time is not your girlfriend?”

Another laugh. Eliott tries to wrap his head around the fact that Lucas isn't dating Red Lipstick, that he is into guys. Does that mean that Eliott might have a chance - wait, what? Like he would want a chance with an asshole who's too arrogant for his own good. He doesn’t. However pretty Lucas might be.

“No, she’s not. Anyway, if you’re not homophobic, then why are you defending Nicholas? Oh, wait. I see. You’re one of those assholes who thinks it’s funny to talk shit about mental health issues, aren’t you? Well. Glad we got that cleared up. Count yourself lucky I already busted my left hand, thanks to you, or I’d deck you one too.”

“What?”

Eliott’s face must show his confusion as to what the fuck they are actually talking about, because Lucas continues.

“Your poor innocent Nicholas called me a faggot. And that, well, I’ve heard worse, but then he called my mother a lunatic and a nut job, and I’m not putting up with that. It’s not her fault her brain trips her up, and she’s trying really hard to get better. So yeah, go ahead, be my guest. Tell me I hit him without reason again.”

His voice is hard, and his eyes, those pools of blue, are icy. And fuck. His words slowly steep through Eliott’s anger, and suddenly a rush of shame floods through him, so powerful it almost floors him.

“Shit, Lucas, I am sorry… I didn’t know…”

This time, it is Lucas who cuts off all communication.

“I don’t care. I don’t need your apologies. What I need is for you to do your fucking job and leave me the fuck alone.”

And okay. Eliott guesses he deserves this. They work in their usual silence, even though it feels a lot colder today than before. Their wordless cooperation seems to have suffered, too – they bump into each other all the time, they mess up orders, they drop ingredients and cups and napkins and run out of punch, making a whole group of customers wait for a new batch to heat up.

Daphné comes by, and she is not happy about the lines and the grumbles of the people waiting.

“Everything okay, Lucas?”, she asks.

Lucas just nods, but Daphné is not one to let anything slide.

“Are you sure?”

Then her sharp eyes fall on Lucas’ hand.

“Lucas! What happened? Can you even work like that? Do you need me to find you a replacement?”

Once again, Eliott is surprised by the turn of events. Lucas didn’t tell Daphné what happened? And then he suddenly is frightened to hear Lucas’ answer. There is no reason whatsoever for Lucas not to take this opportunity to get out of working with Eliott – and then… Then Eliott will not have any chance at making things right with Lucas.

“I’m fine, Daphy. It’s only one more day, I can manage.”

Eliott lets out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

Daphné looks doubtful between the two of them – Eliott trying to force some sort of vague smile on his face – but when Lucas shoves her in the shoulder with his good hand and smiles like the sun and the moon and all the stars combined, she relents. Eliott wishes he could turn back time, do things differently. He would love to see Lucas smile like that at him, but he probably lost all chance of that ever happening.

“Thank you,” he tries, when Daphné has left and the lines at the stall have dissipated.

Lucas glares at him.

“For not snitching on me, I mean.”

Another glare, as if Lucas is trying to communicate Eliott is not even worth snitching on.

Eliott feels like crying.

They continue working, and the air between them is stifled and heavy, and Lucas leaves at the end without sparing Eliott a word, or even a glance.

Eliott watches him go. He fucked everything up, again, and he can’t even blame his brain for this. Something inside him crumbles.

That night, Eliott’s inspired. He draws like a maniac, paints oceans of blue, sketches big eyes and messy hair and a perfect smile curved around straight teeth. He adds piece after piece to his portfolio, and then he carefully takes one out again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How 'bout them comments, huh?
> 
> <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We left our boys pretty much in disarray, Lucas angry, Eliott ashamed.
> 
> Let's see if they manage to kiss and make up! :)
> 
> <3

Like yesterday, Lucas is already at the stall when Eliott arrives. There is a crowd waiting. The weather is fine, brisk but dry, most students are done with their assignments and exams, the term lasts only four more days, and a lot of people have decided to take advantage of the last day of the Christmas market. Eliott carefully puts the rolled-up paper he is carrying down and gets to work.

Some of the tension between him and Lucas seems to have resolved itself overnight. They work as an oiled team again, even though they don’t talk.

They sell completely out about thirty minutes before the official closing time, and Eliott shoots up a small prayer of thanks to whoever might be out there giving him a break.

“Lucas, can we talk? Please?”

Lucas looks tired.

“What is there to talk about? We’re done. You don’t have to see me ever again, and I don’t have to see you anymore. It doesn’t matter.”

“It does! Lucas, please.”

“I’m not going to say anything to Daphy, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“No! No, I just… God.”

Eliott wipes a hand through his hair in his despair, and then, because he doesn’t know how to convince Lucas to listen to him, and because he really cannot even blame him, he grabs his drawing and hands it over.

Lucas seems a bit wary, but his curiosity wins out and he slowly rolls open the heavy paper.

Wordlessly, he stares at himself.

Suddenly, Eliott worries. He should have asked permission to draw Lucas. He’ll have to take yesterday’s work out of his portfolios, even though it is great and would definitely get him a passing grade and he really doesn’t have the time to do it all again –

Lucas interrupts his panicked thoughts.

“What is this?”

Eliott swallows.

“An olive branch, if you want to accept it. I am really sorry, Lucas.”

Lucas stares at the paper, and Eliott starts to fret again.

“It’s beautiful,” he finally says, without intonation, but Eliott grasps it like a drowning man would a lifebuoy.

“I was wrong,” he says, and he doesn’t care that it sounds like a plea. “I shouldn’t have assumed that you were… those things I accused you of.”

Lucas seems to debate with himself.

“Why did you? Assume all those things, I mean.”

The question takes Eliott by surprise. Why did he?

“I just… I was already in a bad mood. I – I didn’t wanna be part of the fundraising committee, but I… Well, if I didn’t, I was going to be expelled. And so I was already frustrated, and I felt like I was being treated unfairly, and you were there, and it looked like you just attacked that guy for no reason, and then he was the one getting kicked out, and I… I just assumed you were some golden kid or something, who got everything he wanted without having to work for anything, or having to face consequences for his actions. And it just triggered me, I guess. I’m sorry though. I really am.”

Lucas contemplates the drawing, then looks back at Eliott.

“It’s almost funny how wrong you are,” he finally replies. “I am definitely no golden boy, as you describe it. My friends are protective of me, because I did struggle a lot. My dad left me and my mom, and I took care of her until it became too hard and she had to be hospitalized. I had to go live on my own when I was 16, and then a few months later I confessed to my dad that I was gay and he stopped supporting me. I’ve been working my ass off to get a scholarship and I still need a job to make ends meet. So yeah. Not very golden.”

“I’m sorry,” Eliott whispers again, chastised.

They sit next to each other on the floor of the tiny stall, their backs against the counter.

“What did you do that they wanted to expel you for?”, Lucas asks after a while. Eliott thinks about how to answer that, and apparently, he takes too long, because Lucas adds, “Never mind. You don’t have to tell me.”

“No,” Eliott hastily answers, “no, it’s not… I was just trying to… Do you mind telling me something first? If you want to, of course.”

Lucas looks over, one eyebrow raised.

“You said – you said your mom was in a hospital, and that – that the guy you hit called her a nut job…”

He breaks off. This is personal, and private, and Lucas has absolutely no reason to trust him with this.

“She has schizophrenia,” Lucas says softly after a long beat. “She’s getting better, but it’s not easy. I try to go visit her when I can, and I know she’s really trying, but –”

This time it’s Lucas who abruptly stops talking. He shrugs, as if to say _It is what it is_ , and Eliott understands, he understands better than anybody.

“I have bipolar disorder,” he confesses to the quiet air. He looks straight ahead, afraid of what he might see on Lucas’ face.

“Sucks,” comes the answer matter-of-factly. Eliott waits to see if Lucas will extrapolate, but he remains silent.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “I was manic, and I broke into the art studios, and I was gonna make something amazing, but what really happened was that I destroyed a bunch of materials, and messed up expensive equipment. The dean wasn’t very pleased.”

Lucas hums in understanding.

“And I get the fact that I need to be held accountable, you know, but it’s just unfair. I can’t control myself sometimes, the broken parts of my brain take over, and I fuck up, and it’s hard. I lost my friends and my girlfriend and my parents are frankly getting tired of having to bail me out and I got kicked out of a bunch of schools already, first out of high school and I had to redo my bac, and then out of several colleges and here I am, still a first-year, even though I am 22, and it just sucks, Lucas. And then the dean gave me this last chance, said I could stay if I volunteered with this whole thing,” he gestures around them wildly, “and I saw you and you were so pretty, and I was – I was… jealous, I think, of your friends having your back, being there for you. It seemed like you had everything, and I just decided it would be easier to hate you.”

He stops to take a breath, and ducks his head, suddenly embarrassed about his outpour.

Lucas sits still next to him.

“If you want, I’ll have your back,” he then says, slowly, deliberately, but so softly Eliott is not sure he heard him right.

“You – what?”

Lucas looks up, hesitates.

“I could be your friend, if you’d like.”

Eliott breathes out shakily.

“But – but why? I’ve been nothing but rude and cruel towards you.”

Lucas traces the lines of Eliott’s drawing with a careful finger.

“This is not rude and cruel,” he says. “Yeah, you were mean and hurtful, but you apologized. I forgive you.”

Tears suddenly prick in the corners of Eliott’s eyes.

“Thank you,” he manages to croak out. “I would like to be your friend very much.”

The silence between them is no longer heavy. To Eliott, it feels suddenly more like a comfy blanket, and he wants to wrap himself in it forever. They sit, not talking, until Daphné comes over and thanks them for their hard work, and shoos them off.

Lucas wishes Eliott goodnight, and he smiles, and Eliott feels like he is floating the whole way home.

***

Daphné and Imane are going over some paperwork. Curly Hair and Glasses and Lovely Smile are giggling somewhere to his left, and Red Lipstick is busy setting up coffee and tea.

Eliott is in his usual corner.

He hasn’t seen Lucas these past few days, hasn’t heard from him, and he is nervous. What if Lucas has changed his mind? And he has an appointment with the dean immediately after this, too. His stomach somersaults like a bouncing ball.

Lucas’ friends seem very happy about winter break starting tomorrow. Glasses is wearing a Santa hat and even though he looks ridiculous, Eliott cannot help but smile. He wants so badly to go over to them, introduce himself, be part of that tight-knit group, even if only for the duration of this wrap-up meeting.

He remembers how he was, years ago, before his strange behaviour and scary actions drove away his friends, alienated him from his parents. Before he pushed away everybody who tried to come close. Before he had to redo his bac, before he was quickly dubbed the weirdo for changing schools in his last year, before he convinced himself he was better off alone, before he started believing he was just a burden on everybody. He remembers how it was to just hang out with friends, make the same inside jokes over and over again, have somebody look out for you. He would kill to get some of that back.

Then, Lucas enters, just his eyes visible through all his scarves and his hat pulled deep over his head, and Eliott simultaneously feels so much calmer realizing how completely gone he is for Lucas bundling up like he is in Siberia instead of France, and so much more nervous precisely because he is completely gone for Lucas.

Lucas chucks off some of his outerwear and looks around. He lights up when he spots Eliott, and comes over. He smiles, and Eliott is blinded by it, and his blood throbs in his ears. He almost misses Lucas’ sunny greeting, and when Lucas unceremoniously grabs his hand and tugs him along, he thinks he might die.

“Hi, guys,” Lucas says to his friends, “this is Eliott. Eliott, these are my friends,” and Eliott is overwhelmed by the ease with which they all just accept him into their circle, offer names and handshakes and smiles, and if he is silent, nobody seems to be bothered by it. One of the boys smirks at Lucas, saying something Eliott doesn’t understand, and Lucas blushes. The pink fascinates Eliott to no end. They all sit down when Daphné starts makes a speech about how much money they have made and what charities they will donate it to, and how grateful she is to all of them, but Eliott hardly catches any of it, because Lucas is sitting next to him, close enough that their shoulders are touching.

Then the official part is over, and there are hot beverages and cookies, and Red Lipstick – Manon – brings Eliott a cookie, and he could cry, but instead, he smiles and manages a watery thank you and she hugs him, like he watched her hug Lucas so often, and Lucas smiles at him, a proud, warm smile just for him, and he eats the cookie because if he doesn’t, he might just kiss Lucas.

And then everybody is leaving, cheers of “Enjoy the holidays!” and “See you after the break!” and “Remember to call me!” ring through the room, and Eliott finds himself leaving together with Lucas. They walk out, and it is freezing but Eliott is so warm inside it doesn’t matter.

Lucas stops right in front of the main building.

“So,” he says. Eliott waits. “I guess this is where I wish you happy holidays.”

And Eliott isn’t ready yet.

“I, uh, I have to see the dean now. About – you know.”

Lucas nods, and his face shows commiseration.

“It’ll go well, you’ll see.”

“Would you – I mean, only if you have time, you don’t have to obviously, but… would you mind waiting for me?”

Something lights up in Lucas’ eyes, and he nods, and they go in together, and Eliott feels that strange floating feeling again.

They wait outside the dean’s office, and to steady his nerves, Eliott starts babbling.

“So, are you packed? Ready to go home for the break?”

“Ah, uh, well, I don’t really have a home, remember? I’m staying on campus.”

And here Eliott goes again, running his big mouth, saying the wrong thing.

“Shit, sorry, I –”

“Hey,” Lucas laughs, “it’s okay. I mean, Yann and Manon both invited me over, and my old roommates would let me crash with them if I asked, but I wanted to stay here. I’ll go visit my mom, and we’ll celebrate quietly together. You?”

“Oh, uh, I’m staying too. If I don’t get expelled, that is,” he chuckles mirthlessly.

Lucas grabs his hand again.

“You won’t,” he says with so much conviction Eliott starts believing it too, and then the door opens and the dean calls him in, and he listens as well as he can, but even though so much hinges on the dean’s decision, his thoughts are more with the boy outside than with the woman in front of him.

He steps out of the office with her stern warning – _You are very fortunate, Mr. Demaury, but I hope you understand that there are no more second chances_ – ringing in his ear. His relief must be palpable, because Lucas takes one look at him, and then cheers and hugs him so tight Eliott almost chokes. His arms wrap around Lucas of their own accord, and his heart is beating so fast he is afraid Lucas will notice.

When they finally let go, Lucas’ eyes shine.

It snows when they step outside, and Lucas lifts his hands in wonder, trying to catch the slowly falling flakes. Eliott is mesmerized by Lucas more than by the dancing ice crystals, and he laughs, freer than he has in months.

Lucas looks at him.

“Do you wanna come over? To celebrate, I mean. I know how to make hot chocolate.”

His smile is mischievous, inviting, warm, and Eliott remembers the first time Lucas offered him hot chocolate, and how he rudely rejected the offer. This time, he nods, and he laughs again, because everything is different now.

They make their way to Lucas’ flat, and they wordlessly set about making the hot chocolate.

Mugs in hand, they sit down on Lucas’ bed, because there is not really anywhere else in the tiny space, and just as he is about to take a sip, Eliott notices his drawing on Lucas’ nightstand. Lucas follows his gaze.

“It’s so beautiful,” he whispers.

“Because you are beautiful,” Eliott replies truthfully, his voice hoarse. Lucas looks up at him, his eyes big and incredulous.

“It’s true,” Eliott continues, steadier now. “That much has always been true. Even when I was so furious at you, I always knew you were the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen.”

Pink blossoms on Lucas’ cheeks, and Eliott wants to kiss it off.

“Do you not have a mirror?”, Lucas tries to quip, but it comes out more like a choke.

Eliott stares at him wide-eyed.

“What?”, Lucas grimaces, embarrassed. “You could be a model, you’re gorgeous. I saw you that first time, and I wanted to get to know you. I, uh, I might have asked Daphy to pair me with the hot guy.”

Eliott’s breath hitches. His heart stops beating for half a minute. He stares at Lucas, not knowing if Lucas is joking, whether Eliott is even awake, or if this is just another dream.

Lucas shrugs uneasily when there is no reply, and he busies himself tasting his chocolate. When he lowers his mug, whipped cream is all over his upper lip. His tongue darts out, and Eliott loses it. He stretches out his finger, and wipes the cream off Lucas’ face, then sucks it off his hand. Lucas’ eyes follow his motions, and his pupils blow up.

“You did?”, Eliott asks lowly.

Lucas hums.

“I wouldn’t have if I had known you were gonna treat me like scum, though.”

His face is serious, but his eyes are amused, and Eliott is emboldened by it.

“I already apologized for that.”

Lucas nods, an unimpressed look on his face. Eliott smiles.

“What else can I do to make it up to you, Lucas?”

Lucas says nothing, but very deliberately lifts his mug and takes a drink. Another whipped cream moustache forms.

If this is a dream, Eliott thinks, he hopes he doesn’t wake up. Or at least not before he can lean forward, slowly.

Lucas doesn’t move.

Eliott kisses the cream away. He almost forgets to breathe. Lucas has closed his eyes, and when he opens them there is just a bright blue ring around huge black circles. Eliott swallows with some difficulty.

“Am I dreaming?”, he asks before his brain can catch up with his mouth. Lucas laughs brightly, and Eliott has to kiss him again. This time it is deeper, slower. His hands come up to cradle Lucas’ face, and Lucas leans into it without breaking the kiss.

“Thank god I destroyed that art studio,” he blurts out when they have to split apart, gasping for air, and Lucas rewards him by pecking at his jaw.

Eliott lets the feelings overtake him, and he imagines how the rest of this break might go – walking hand in hand with a bundled-up Lucas through the park, decorating Eliott’s room together, making a snowman. More kisses. More hot chocolate. Maybe he’ll slip out to buy Lucas a present, or draw him again. Maybe he’ll call his parents, try to repair the connection they had when he was younger. And then when school starts again, he’ll hang out with Lucas and his friends, and he’ll try to open up towards his classmates and make some new friends of his own.

Maybe he is not just Eliott who messes up sometimes. Maybe he’ll accept that bad things happen, and try to deal with them, and grow from them. Maybe he deserves good things.

He doesn’t have to be alone anymore. Lucas knows his secrets, and he is still willing to give things a try.

And when he bends over and captures Lucas’ lips again, he is exactly where he wants to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How many Christmases before Santa brings an engagement ring or two, y'all think? :)
> 
> Leave me a comment please!
> 
> <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I guess I shouldn't have teased like that at the end of the last chapter... Because once the idea was in my head, it wanted to get written. 
> 
> So here's two small snippets of two other Christmases in our boys' lives.
> 
> I *think* this is the end, but on the other hand... who knows what Lucas is hiding amongst all those scarves, right?
> 
> <3

~~~~~

Eliott doesn’t want to be here.

Oh, it’s not like last year at all – this time he’s sitting with a bunch of friends, Emma telling some outrageous story, Arthur sharing his cookie with Eliott, Eliott’s classmates Christian and Jocelyne being adopted into the group without a fuss, just like Eliott himself had been last year, Daphné and Imane going over the checklist together – but he’d still rather not be here.

He really wants to be with Lucas right now. Lucas’ mom is getting out of hospital today, and it’s a huge deal. But Daphné had already sent out word about the kick-off meeting for the fundraiser before the doctors confirmed the date, and of course they were going to volunteer, so they had decided Eliott would go to the meeting while Lucas went to spend the day with his mom.

Manon smiles indulgently at him.

“Missing your boy?”, she smirks. Eliott just nods. It’s not like it’s a secret – he misses Lucas whenever they are not together.

“I’m so glad his mom is finally doing so much better,” Yann adds. “Lucas must be so happy. One thing less to worry about.”

And for one horrible moment, Eliott feels guilt rise, threatening to overtake him. Because Lucas still has to worry about him, always will have to worry about him. As if it wasn’t enough for one person to have to deal with his mom needing extra help and support.

“Hey,” Yann mumbles, putting a hand on Eliott’s shoulder, “don’t go there. He loves you, just like he loves his mom.”

And Eliott takes a deep breath, refusing to give in to those feelings trying to tell him to run away, trying to make him believe he doesn’t deserve any of this – friends who care, and Lucas who loves him.

How a year can change things.

They have been basically joined at the hip, Lucas and he, after last year’s winter break, with the two of them on a basically deserted campus. Lucas’ friends did tease them for a while when they came back for the spring semester, especially Lucas, about his request to Daphné to be paired with Eliott. Lucas, though, would blush deliciously, but other than that he shrugged it all off, saying it got him a boyfriend in the end, after all.

And Eliott has been so much better about reaching out. To Lucas, and to others. He’s made some friends of his own, and he’s working on his relationship with his family, and some of his high school friends.

He is so lost in thought, he misses the door opening and a latecomer slipping in, until he is almost tackled by a figure wrapped in hoodies and scarves, grabbing at him with enormous mittens.

“Hey, baby,” Lucas says, muffled by the amount of fabric covering his face. Eliott grins, and manages to free enough of Lucas’ face to press a chaste but lingering kiss on his lips.

“I didn’t expect you here.”

Lucas pouts.

“Well, I’m sorry to disturb your plans, I can go again…”

“No way!”, Eliott interrupts, tightening his hold around Lucas’ waist. “But what about your mom?”

“She was actually really tired and wanted to get an early night in. So I figured I might as well come bother my beautiful boyfriend.”

Eliott doesn’t care that everybody can see how soft his eyes go at that. It still makes butterflies erupt inside him to hear Lucas call him that, even after almost a year.

“Come here, then,” he whispers against Lucas’ jaw, and Lucas laughs in delight. He moves away from Eliott’s hold just enough to peel off some of his layers, and then unceremoniously situates himself on Eliott’s lap.

“I have also bought an anniversary present for you,” he then mumbles, his breath ghosting the shell of Eliott’s ear, so low the others don’t hear. A shiver runs over Eliott’ spine, at the feeling of Lucas so close, and the mentioning of their anniversary.

One year. It seems incredible, and yet, it also seems like it’s only just beginning.

He has been working on a present for Lucas, too. He’s been sketching the two of them, during all the beautiful moments they have had this year, as a sort of photo album. And he’s put in one or two of the bad times, too – a drawing of the two of them, working in silence in the market stall, and a drawing of Eliott in bed, slapping away Lucas’ hand that tries to comfort him. They both hate it when they are out of sync, but together, they always come back from it stronger than before.

Eliott tightens his embrace, pulls Lucas even closer, nuzzles his face in his boyfriend’s neck, and sends out a prayer of thanks to the universe, or whoever else might be listening.

Daphné starts speaking. She’s enthusiastically listing all the great ideas for this year, and how much fun they’ll all have, but Eliott isn’t paying attention. He’s sure nobody can blame him for being distracted, when he has such a pretty boy in his arms.

“Hey,” Lucas whispers. His cheeks are pink. Eliott wonders if it is still from the cold or if Lucas is blushing about something else. “You wanna know a secret?”

Eliott looks up, his eyes wide, and nods.

“I may or may not have asked Daphy to pair me up with the most gorgeous boy in the room.”

And well, Eliott’s helpless when it comes to Lucas, and he bows his head. It’s that kissing the blush off doesn’t really work – if anything, Lucas’ cheeks blossom even redder – but Eliott is nothing if not diligent in his attempts.

This Christmas season is going to the best ever. Yet.

~~~~~

“It’s weird,” Lucas says, squeezing Eliott’s hand. “It doesn’t really feel like it’s almost Christmas.”

Eliott laughs. Considering the fact that they are walking through a snowy Paris, decked out with lights and Christmas trees everywhere they look, Lucas’ statement is rather hard to believe.

“I mean,” Lucas continues when he sees Eliott’s incredulous smile, “normally we’d work our way up to Christmas on the university market.”

And now Lucas makes a lot more sense. They have been volunteering every December, getting really good at serving hot drinks with years of practice. They’ve also gotten really good at stealing kisses during the inevitable lulls, and if they got a bit friskier than that once or twice, it’s nobody’s business either.

However, they both graduated last spring – Lucas having completed an additional degree which timed it perfectly with Eliott’s – and so this year, they have been busy with their new jobs instead.

And Lucas is right, Eliott supposes, that it seems like Christmas has crept up on them. Tomorrow they’ll celebrate their fifth anniversary. It seems like the years went by in the blink of an eye sometimes, but on the other hand, there are a million memories tumbling through Eliott’s brain. Studying with Lucas, partying with Lucas, walking through town with Lucas, going on vacation with Lucas. The occasional fight with Lucas, but then always the making up with Lucas.

He looks at Lucas, who seems to be lost in his own thoughts. Eliott can barely see a faint smile around Lucas’ lips through all the scarves he’s wearing. Nothing has changed in that regard, he thinks fondly. Lucas still bundles up like he’s about to climb the Mount Everest, rather than taking a short walk though Paris. Eliott is pretty sure the maroon scarf belongs to Yann. The boy must have forgotten it at their flat last weekend, when they held a secret Santa party with all their friends. Their flat had barely been big enough to hold all the people Lucas and he loved and who loved them in return, but they wouldn’t want it any other way. Which is not to say that Eliott hadn’t also been extremely glad when they’d all left, late at night, tipsy and noisily, and he finally had Lucas all to himself again.

“Are you nervous?”, Lucas suddenly asks, with a quick glance at Eliott, biting his bottom lip just slightly. Eliott wants to kiss him, soothe that mark with his tongue, and – well. Who will stop him from kissing his own boyfriend under a streetlight? So he pulls Lucas closer by their entwined hands, and does exactly that. He relishes in Lucas’ delighted short burst of laughter, before their lips find each other again and Lucas, the fiend, manages to wriggle his ice-cold hand under Eliott’s coat and hoodie somehow, grazing the bare skin of his back. He forgives Lucas immediately, when the latter laughs again, and cuddles ever closer to Eliott, burrowing his face against Eliott’s shoulder.

They stand like that for a moment.

“Not really,” Eliott answers then, his words forming small puffs in the cold air. “I got you with me.”

And it’s true. With Lucas on his side, he feels like nothing can harm him. Lucas is his biggest champion, defending him whenever something threatens him, even if it’s his own brain attacking him.

They are on their way to a Christmas celebration with both his parents and Lucas’ mom, and it’s a big deal for everybody. Eliott and Lucas’ mom have formed a sort of support system, reminding each other to take their meds, and talking things through together when it felt like nobody else understood. They’ve both had bad times, but overall, the balance is positive. And his own parents loved Lucas immediately, though they had been wary at first if it would last, if it wasn’t just another of Eliott’s whims, if Lucas wasn’t too young to know what he’d be getting himself into. But five years into it, they are forced to admit Lucas and Eliott are in this for the long haul.

So tonight, he’ll introduce Lucas’ mom to them, and it feels like another big step in their relationship, but at the same time, it also feels natural and logical, like everything with Lucas, since that first evening at his dorm room, drinking hot chocolate.

He feels light, as he tugs Lucas along, slowly making their way to the hotel where his parents are staying for the weekend.

Lucas is still laughing, excited too, about tonight, about how far they’ve come, about how far they’ll still go together.

And Eliott has plans, for that last one. After all, if everything goes well, tomorrow night, Lucas will no longer be his boyfriend, Eliott thinks, feeling the grin grow on his face, as he gingerly traces the small box in his coat pocket.

~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, if you could leave me a comment as a Christmas present, I'd be really grateful.
> 
> Hope y'all are enjoying the holidays and wishing you a better 2021 than 2020!
> 
> <3

**Author's Note:**

> Shout at me in the comments!
> 
> <3


End file.
